


Trust

by sanguisuga



Series: Aberrant Fragments [13]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Little Bit Anyhow, Although It's Full Mystrade By The End, Anal Sex, And Catch Feelings Along The Way, Because That's How I Operate, But Mycroft Will Make It Better, Care And Affection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Greg's In A Bad Way, Humour, Light Angst, M/M, My Specialty!, No Safe Sex Talk, Rimming, Smut and Fluff, They're Bad In This One, bareback, handjob, naughty boys, pre-Mystrade, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: Mycroft is surprised when Lestrade turns to him in his time of need.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Something I cobbled together in less than a week - kinda proud of it! Decided to post on Friday the 13th to try and recapture my mojo. ;-)
> 
> Please do comment, let me know what you all think...
> 
> *edited to add to the 'soft smut sunday' collection*

Mycroft double-checked the address they were idling in front of against the one that had been texted to him fifteen minutes earlier. Just the address, and nothing more. If he hadn’t known that it had come from Lestrade, he wouldn’t have bothered to answer such an impersonal summons. But he knew the man to be trustworthy almost to a fault, and so understood that no matter the reason he had been called here, it would not be a waste of his valuable time.

He cleared his throat faintly as George opened the car door for him, stepping out under the cover of his ever-ready umbrella. Although technically just a drizzle, the rain was falling heavily enough that it would soak through even his fine wool coat before too long. George took up his station at the driver’s side door, circumspectly scanning both sides of the street as he waited for Mr. Holmes’ contact to arrive.

Mycroft’s lips pursed faintly as he felt his driver’s eyes settle on him again, turning aside to glance into the coffee shop through the large front window. It looked like quite the cosy little spot, all earthen tones and overstuffed chairs with sturdy handcrafted tables standing nearby. Mycroft felt one corner of his mouth twitch up as his mind helpfully supplied the notion that this was the very picture of a well-loved hobbit hole.

However, he could see no sign of a certain Detective Inspector amongst its current inhabitants, and he was unsure whether or not the summons had been for anything as trite as an idle chat over coffee. They had of course met a few times for just that, but those invitations tended to be more genial and a little more collaborative than this last - well - _request_. Mycroft knew better than to try and interpret the tone in anything as static as a text message; but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this particular text was a harbinger of change, of something - new.   

His nose lifted subconsciously as a customer exited the coffee shop, the air around them swirling with the aroma of lovingly baked goods. Mycroft’s stomach rumbled imperceptibly as he hovered on the edge of uncertainty, his gloved hand reaching for the handle of the door. He turned away as he caught motion out of the corner of his eye, his posture straightening as he watched Lestrade striding towards him purposefully.

He blinked rapidly as the Detective Inspector came more fully into view, easily parsing out his state of mind from the set of his shoulders, the downturn of his lips and the tightness in his eyes. His job had the unfortunate tendency to wear him down, and with as expressive as Lestrade’s face was, it was rather impossible to hide its effects. Today he was looking even more haggard than usual, the dark spots under his eyes standing out in stark relief against a surprisingly pale face. Despite the vigour of his stride, it was readily apparent that he had most likely only snatched an hour or two of sleep a few times in the past three days.

Mycroft felt himself tense up as Lestrade drew closer. This was a man who was clearly at the end of his rope, and even Mycroft had no clue what his intention might be, or what Lestrade was entirely capable of.

It seemed as though he was about to find out.

Mycroft eyed Lestrade warily as he stopped three steps away, his chest heaving slightly from his forced march. He was holding himself wound tightly, his shoulders broad and set, his fists lightly clenched at his sides, his knees bent as if ready to spring.

Long moments passed as Lestrade seemed to catch his breath, conflicting emotions rippling over his face as the steady drizzle soaked him through. Mycroft marvelled silently at each one, wondering how it was possible that someone who had seen so much of man’s inhumanity to man could be so open, so - honest. There was doubt and uncertainty in his eyes, but it was washed away with a brief bout of despair. A sense of resolve formed in between drawn-down eyebrows, and then a sharp burst of relief cascaded over his features as a course of action was apparently decided upon.

Lestrade’s face opened as his shoulders dropped, and in two quick, shuffling steps, he had reached out for the lapels of Mycroft’s coat and pulled him down into a harsh kiss. Mycroft staggered slightly, keeping firm hold of his umbrella with one hand while his unoccupied arm wrapped tightly around the other man’s shoulders. _‘For support,’_ he told himself firmly as they both wobbled in place.

Lestrade reeked of too many cigarettes and too much stale over-brewed coffee, the smell of his sweat sharp with desperation and bitter with need. After the initial shock of the kiss had passed, Mycroft leant a bit further into it, coaxing Lestrade’s tightly pursed lips into something looser, something open. He could feel Lestrade shaking against him, either with nerves or perhaps the lingering anxiety over whatever had brought them to this point. Mycroft felt something inside him twist uncomfortably at the thought that the Detective Inspector was almost behaving like a spooked animal.

Mycroft tried to project slow and calm as he licked his way deftly into Lestrade’s mouth, tempering his actions until he felt the trembling in the broad shoulders drift away under his careful attentions. He drew back slightly as Lestrade took in a deep breath from his nose, pushing it out with a long, slow exhale between their bodies.

Mycroft ran his tongue over his teeth as he stood straighter, moderately amused to feel Lestrade’s fingers wind even tighter into his lapels. He tried to keep his voice steady, but it wavered in his throat before he forced it to even out. “Bad day, then?”

Lestrade huffed out a laugh, a halfhearted wounded little thing that made Mycroft wince. “Bad week. Bad year.” He squinted up at Mycroft, his features pinched and weary. “Bad life, maybe?” He glanced down at his own hands, the trembling starting up again as he tried to make his fingers uncurl. “I d-dunno. I just...” Lestrade looked up again, at his eyes lingering on Mycroft’s mouth. “I want - no, I n-need...”

Mycroft reluctantly released his grip on Lestrade’s shoulder and carefully draped his hand over both of his. “Dect-” Mycroft stopped dead as those big brown eyes started to fill up, shaking his head in his panic. _‘Oh God, oh fuck, oh no no no - don’t you dare...’_ He cleared his throat as he tightened his grip, both on Lestrade and his umbrella. “Greg.” Relief flooded his body as Greg resolutely sniffled back his tears. “I hardly think you’re in the proper state of mind for this.”

“S’why I need it.” Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure when his coat and been released and his hand taken instead, but he reeled slightly as it was held to Greg’s cheek, as he nuzzled into the leather with a little sigh. “Please, Mycroft.”

“This will change things.” He tried to steel his gaze as Greg nodded resignedly. “Irrevocably.” He left the unspoken ‘for better or worse’ hanging in the scant space between them, running his thumb over Greg’s bottom lip. He shivered pleasantly as strong white teeth snapped at it, a tinge of playfulness colouring the desperation in Greg’s eyes. His heart started to thrum low in his throat as he read the enduring trust there, the absolute faith that Greg had that Mycroft would not hurt him.

For half a second, the darker part of Mycroft’s nature latched onto that notion, snarling and giving the Greg in his mind a vicious shake. _‘Trust. I’ll teach you what happens when you trust the wrong people. Take. Hurt. Own. I’ll show you...’_

Mycroft squashed down that intrusive nonsense, relentlessly grinding it under his heel. Yes, he knew that trust could be misplaced, could be misused. But not by this man, and certainly not _to_ him, at least never by his hand. He was one of the very few that Mycroft could trust with his own life. This man, who had looked after his little brother as though he were his own blood. This man, who did all that he could to find justice for any number of nameless victims out on the street. This man, who had seen more than his fair share of unspeakable violence and yet remained kind and honest against all odds.

This man, who had inexplicably turned to Mycroft in his time of need - for comfort, for care, for whatever he could possibly offer. Whether this blew up in their faces or not, Mycroft knew that there was no way he would be able to refuse Greg anything that he needed. Not now or ever.

He leant in to press a soft kiss to the top of Greg’s head as it bowed in front of him, feeling a strange jolt of happiness as he sighed into his chest. Lifting his gaze, he made eye contact with his driver, his eyebrow quirking as he noted that George was already preparing to drive off. George gave him a little nod, his lips turned up into a soft smile. He waited for Mycroft’s curt tilt of the chin before sliding back into the driver’s seat, melding smoothly into traffic without looking back.

He felt Greg’s shoulders drop a bit more as he glanced back, silently watching as Mycroft’s car vanished. Without another word he propelled Mycroft into action, tugging him around the side of the coffee shop, leading him towards a staircase set into the building.

“You live above the shop?”

Greg’s eyebrow lifted. “Thought you knew everything about everyone, Mr. Government Man.”

Mycroft cleared his throat as Greg fumbled with his key. “I knew you had moved after - well. I didn’t deem it necessary to continue to keep tabs on you at that point.”

Greg snorted softly as he led Mycroft in through a small foyer. “Proved myself to you by then, had I?”

“Obviously.” Mycroft set aside his damp umbrella and shucked off his gloves, tucking them into the pockets of his coat before shrugging it off. He hung it meticulously on the coat rack standing in the corner by the door and turned to his host.

Greg was watching him silently, the weariness settling back into his posture as his shoulders slumped. Mycroft chided him softly, reaching out to wipe up a bit of rainwater from his forehead before it dripped into his eyes. “Haven’t you an umbrella? You’ll catch your death one of these days.”

Greg snorted again as he plunged one hand into a very voluminous pocket of his mack, fishing out a tiny travel umbrella. He waggled it at Mycroft and actually giggled as he recoiled in horror. “Utter bollocks. Can’t even pop it open without it flipping inside out on me.”

Mycroft clucked his tongue and reached out, slipping his hands under Greg’s mack and over his shoulders, knocking the garment loose. He hung it next to his coat, taking in a fortifying breath before turning back. Once again, it seemed that Greg had lost his focus, his eyes somewhat distant and vaguely puzzled. Mycroft stepped just a bit closer, running the back of one finger along Greg’s chilly skin. “What now?”

Greg shrugged as his gaze sharpened. “I hadn’t really planned past the kiss, to be honest with you. Thought best case scenario was you walking away from me.”

Mycroft felt his lips turn up. “And the worst case scenario?”

“That driver of yours taking me into the alley and beating the stuffing out of me.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “George would never be that gauche. Or obvious.”

“So I’d just be vanished?”  

Mycroft bit his lip as a tiny glimmer returned to Greg’s eyes, only to watch it blink out of existence as he suddenly shivered hard. Mycroft reached out to take his hand, chafing it gently between both of his. “Right off the face of the earth, I’m afraid.” He moved backwards through the short corridor, tugging Greg along with him.

He stepped into a surprisingly open space, bright and clear and far more modern than he had expected. Greg noticed the change in his expression, looking around with muted satisfaction. “They remodelled when they put in the coffee shop and bakery downstairs. Opened it all up, put in new pipes and wiring and all. Originally, the owner was going to live here but then he passed - suspicious circumstances, which is how I came to know about it. His kids didn’t want the property, split up the shops and the flat. Gave it to me for a steal, what with all the work that’d been done.” Another swift pang of sorrow seemed to pass through him, quickly followed by another violent shudder. “Job pays off sometimes.” Greg’s teeth started to chatter. “Rarely.”

Mycroft started moving in the direction of what he hoped was the bedroom, and also the bathroom. Besides a shower being beneficial for Mycroft in particular considering the rather odoriferous state Greg was in, he clearly needed to be warmed up properly before anything else could happen. They passed by an alcove with a large, airy window that had been set up as a sort of study before walking into a large, open bedroom.

Mycroft once again stopped in surprise as he surveyed the space. The flooring continued from the rest of the flat, a textured ceramic tile in a sedate grey. The walls and built-in cupboards and shelves surrounding a generic block wood bed frame were all a much lighter shade of grey. It was less stark than pure white would have been, but still lent an air of sterility to the room that really didn’t suit Greg at all.

Greg bit his lip and shrugged as Mycroft looked at him askance. “Didn’t have much when I moved in - haven’t really had the time to decorate. Or the inclination.” He sighed. “Sometimes it feels like I’m walking into a hotel room at the end of the day instead of my home.” His lips curled up as Mycroft inhaled deeply, something like a glimmer of amusement twinkling in the depths of his eyes. “That helps, though.” He gestured at the floor. “Bakery’s just underneath. They did a great job with the soundproofing, but there’s no such thing as smellproofing.”

Mycroft breathed in deeply again. “Don’t you find it maddening?”

“Nah, it’s just comforting. And the lads down at the Yard don’t mind at all when I bring in the best pick of the day-old goodies.”

They shared a brief smile then, and Mycroft squeezed Greg’s hand as it shook in his. “Come now - let’s get you warmed up.”

Greg led the way into the bathroom, all gleaming chrome and sleek lines. Mycroft got the shower started and tested the water, glancing up as Greg made a frustrated noise, his fingers fumbling at his buttons. He silently batted Greg’s hands away and set to work getting him disrobed, keeping his own intrigue tamped down in order to maintain a sense of calm between them. There was nothing earth-shattering or life-changing going on - he was just stripping every stitch of wet clothing from an upset and unfairly handsome friend. No big deal, right?

Mycroft took Greg’s hand once his clothing was discarded on the floor, helping him into the shower. He paused as it seemed like Greg wouldn’t let go of his hand, bringing it up to his lips. “I’ll just be a moment.”

“Promise?”

Mycroft’s stomach swooped as those big brown eyes began to well up again, startled to feel a sympathetic prickling in his own eyes. He pressed Greg’s hand to his cheek, nodding solemnly. “I promise.”

Greg shivered before withdrawing, ducking his whole body under the spray and simply standing there. Mycroft swiftly kicked Greg’s clothes out of the way as he started working on his own, not so eager that he was willing for his suit to suffer any unsavoury rumpling. He found empty hangers in the wardrobe and spent a moment arranging everything properly before taking in a deep breath and throwing back his shoulders.

It had been rather a while since he had willingly gotten naked with another human being, which could easily account for the nerves jangling low in his belly. There was also no denying that he had always felt a certain - tension - when he was around this man in particular, which went a long way toward explaining the way his cock was already plumping up hopefully, bouncing between his legs at a slightly jauntier angle than usual.

Mycroft strove to ignore it as he climbed into the shower behind Greg, opening up his arms as he turned into him almost blindly. He held him until his shivering had ceased altogether, then cautiously reached for the shampoo. Greg sighed as he tilted his head back, leaning into the steady massaging of Mycroft’s fingers against his scalp. He bent back even further to rinse, counting on Mycroft’s hold around his waist to keep him from toppling over.

Mycroft braced his legs as he traced one hand up Greg’s body, trailing his fingers along the throat that had been so blithely exposed to him. _Trust._ Mycroft was a bit in awe over how it seemed to come to Greg so instinctively, with apparently no doubts or uncertainty. Naked and vulnerable, he had wordlessly handed himself over into Mycroft’s care without hesitation. He found himself wondering what sort of trust might exist between them now if something like this had happened earlier, at the first spark of attraction all those years ago.

Greg wouldn’t have had to seek him out, for one thing. There would have been no curt demand on his mobile. Instead it might have been casual planning for dinner, or even a simple  _'_ _see you at home later?’_ Mycroft would have known to take Greg into his arms he moment he saw him rather than waiting for him to launch himself at him in a clumsy pass. Perhaps Greg wouldn’t have even gotten wrought up to such a desperate state if they had already been involved. It was odd for Mycroft to imagine himself as anyone’s lifeline, especially since his own brother had rejected his offers of help so many times.

And yet... Greg had come to _him_. He still had no idea why, but Mycroft was determined to ensure that Greg did not regret his choice. He looked up from where his thumb was running in small circles over Greg’s Adam’s apple, unaware of having wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck. Greg blinked at him languidly, his large brown eyes somehow even bigger with the pronounced dark circles underneath. Mycroft drew him closer, settling Greg’s cheek against his shoulder as he reached for the soap.

Greg sighed into Mycroft’s neck as he lathered up his hands and started to run them over his back in long, slow circles. Nothing between them but suds, just Mycroft’s hands on Greg’s skin, learning him by feel. He was immensely gratified to feel him relax a bit more under his touch, lifting his arms to wrap around Mycroft’s neck, elongating his spine, offering even more of himself.

Mycroft found himself humming tunelessly as he pressed his lips to Greg’s temple, pausing only momentarily to murmur, “What do you need, Greg?”

Greg rolled his shoulders as Mycroft swept his hands up and over, along and under his arms. “More,” he sighed. “Make me forget, just for tonight. Make me feel, make me remember why I even bother.” He shrugged as his eyes lowered. “I just need more. More of you.”

Mycroft took in a deep breath to combat the spinning in his head, running his hands down Greg’s back, skimming his palms over the curve of his arse. Greg gasped quietly as he spread his legs a bit more, pushing into the touch. He nodded blindly as Mycroft tickled along the cleft of his bum, sliding his soapy fingers up and down and between. Mycroft shivered as Greg’s teeth set lightly into the shelf of his clavicle, hissing out his approval.

Emboldened, he stretched in a bit further, liberally spreading the suds around and even probing gently, dipping just the tip of his finger inside. Greg squirmed against him, and with a swift jolt, Mycroft realised that both of their cocks had tipped from vague interest into full-blown arousal. Trying not to to over-excite either one of them, he gathered up more soap and slid one hand along the front of Greg’s body, making the slide of their skin even more frictionless.

Greg tilted his hips away from Mycroft’s groin and turned slightly sideways, making it easier for him to get his hand around his cock. They both shuddered with pleasure even as Greg shook his head slightly, not in denial, but in caution. “Don’t... Not - too much. Please.” He raked his eyes down Mycroft’s body, licking his lips and huffing out a short breath. “You’ve got a beautiful cock. I need to feel it inside me.”

“Christ.” Mycroft’s grip tightened as he swayed in place, scowling at Greg’s delighted chuckle. “If you don’t kill me first, you tart.” Shaking a bit of sense back into his brain, Mycroft retaliated with a couple of swift strokes before perfunctorily swiping his hands even further below and between. He gave Greg’s bollocks a gentle squeeze just to watch his mouth drop open and his eyes flare with need.

Then he released him and stepped back, tilting his head as Greg looked at him with a bit of outrage in his face. “Rinse yourself well. I want to taste your skin, not soap.”

Greg huffed almost silently, but Mycroft prided himself on the fact that his bold statement had brought a bit of the colour back to his cheeks. Both sets, in fact. He made sure that his own body was thoroughly lathered as Greg turned in place under the spray, pulling a slight face at him as he ducked his head under. They switched places, and Greg looked over his shoulder, pensively biting his lip as he stepped out of the cubicle.

Mycroft could see his outline in the frosted glass, reaching for a towel and running it over his head. There was something in that last look that gave him pause, and he shifted his hips as his cock wilted just a bit. Not bothering to wash his hair, he twisted the temperature control and gave himself a little blast of frigid water, swallowing down his yelp.

Mycroft emerged from the shower to find Greg with a towel wrapped around his waist, busily cleaning his teeth. He wasn’t quite fast enough to conceal his little noise of approval, and Greg snorted as he made eye contact with him in the mirror, his toothbrush sticking out of the corner of mouth. He spit and rinsed as Mycroft towelled himself off, turning around and leaning up against the sink.

“M’sorry. Didn’t think about how rank I was when I - well.” Once again that look was in Greg’s eyes, something a little resigned, almost guilty. “I’m just realising that I came on a bit strong out there.” His shoulders turned in as his eyes dropped to the floor at Mycroft’s feet, his hands gripping at the edge of the sink as he slouched down low. “I didn’t really give you much of a chance to say no.”

Mycroft smiled softly as the reason for Greg’s sudden reluctance made itself clear, stepping just a bit closer. “Have I given you any indication that I am here under duress?”

Greg’s eyes flickered up and back down again, this time settling on the hand that was keeping Mycroft’s dubious modesty intact with nothing but a strategically placed towel. “No, but I...”

“I had the opportunity to refuse you, Greg. To walk away.” Mycroft moved closer still, abandoning his towel in favour of reaching out to cup Greg’s jaw. “I could have seen you safely home and told you to sleep it off. I could _still_ do that, if I were so inclined.” Greg’s chest hitched as Mycroft tilted his face up. “You aren’t forcing me to be here with you. You would never do such a thing.” Mycroft ran his nose over Greg’s cheek, his lips curling against the corner of his mouth. “And you should know me better than to think that I would _ever_ do anything that I did not strictly _want_ to do. In fact, I am rather looking forward to whatever the evening may bring.”

This kiss was far more satisfactory than the first, a purposeful slide of lips and tongue, a sense of playfulness in sharp nips and shared breaths of laughter. Greg moaned low in his throat as Mycroft pushed up against him, using his lowered stance to tower above him, making their respective roles for the night very clear. He strengthened his position by tugging on Greg’s hair, pulling his head back and snarling under his breath as he set his teeth in his neck.

Greg whimpered, clutching at Mycroft with one hand while the other strained to keep him upright against the sink. Then he simply gave himself over, blindly opening a drawer and fumbling through the contents. Mycroft blinked back into some sort of awareness as something was pressed into his chest. He grinned ferally at the tube of extra-thick lube, weighing it in his hand and finding it to be promisingly full.

Greg’s eyes were huge and dark as he looked up at him, every line in his face speaking of his need. Without another word, Mycroft marched him back out into the bedroom. He took a moment to arrange things to his liking before gesturing Greg towards the bed. He quirked an eyebrow and a lopsided smile in Mycroft’s direction, but also did not hesitate to lay himself down.

Greg settled on his belly, wriggling slightly to get his hips comfortably situated over the towel-draped pillow. He pulled another pillow over his crossed arms, spreading his legs as he laid his head down. Mycroft crawled onto the mattress behind him, taking a moment to simply look, and admire. He set aside the lube and pushed himself up on his knees, running his hands over Greg’s arms and down the length of his back.

Greg shifted and stretched under his touch, groaning softly as Mycroft gently dragged his nails over his skin, leaving behind criss-crossing trails of pinkened flesh. He dug in a bit deeper as he got to Greg’s thighs, just to watch and feel the muscles flex under his hands. And then there was just his arse left to admire, to touch and to - taste.

Mycroft hummed to himself as he parted the bounty laid out for him with his thumbs, a swift welter of heat blooming in his face as Greg lifted his hips and spread himself wider still. Mycroft licked his lips, feeling the saliva gathering at the back of his tongue. Although he’d had this particular act performed on him a couple of times, he had never before deigned to put his tongue anywhere near an arsehole, freshly washed or no.

He hadn’t found it to be all that pleasurable on the receiving end, but he rather had the feeling that had more to do with the company than with the act itself. Those men had been little more than casual acquaintances that he had selected to fulfil a certain need, and Mycroft hadn’t really been able to relax under their hands, or mouths, as it were. For them, the act had been a matter of mechanics, as something that was simply done, no matter the circumstances. But for Mycroft, it presumed a level of intimacy that he was simply incapable of extending to anyone. At least, anyone who wasn’t a certain Detective Inspector, apparently. Looking down now, he knew what had been missing in those previous encounters.

It had to do with trust, of course. And there was no point in comparing any of his previous experiences with the adventure that he was about to embark on. The singular element that had been so lacking was here in abundance, and he was sure that it would make all the difference. Resolving to think on it no more, to concentrate all his attention on the matter at hand, Mycroft crouched down low and pressed a soft kiss right on his target.

Greg jumped slightly, the muscles under Mycroft’s hands tensing in his surprise. For a half a moment, Mycroft thought that perhaps he had made an error in judgement, but his doubt vanished as Greg half-sighed, half-moaned and dipped his spine, essentially presenting himself as a tasty dish to be feasted upon.

Mycroft first took a moment to savour his aroma, to run his nose along and around, to breathe him in deeply. There was a lingering hint of soap, sharp and unpalatable, but underneath there was only Greg. Warm and earthy, redolent of musk and spice and salt, moss and rich loam. It reminded Mycroft of a small wood that he liked to wander in when he was a child, especially after they’d had a bit of rain. Somehow otherworldly, but friendly and welcoming all the same. He was rather pleased to come to the conclusion that Greg smelled - and tasted - of home.

After cataloguing and collating, Mycroft took Greg up on his unspoken invitation, oh yes he did. He bestowed long, slow swirls of his tongue, spreading an abundance of his saliva all around, blowing a soft breath over the wet patches to watch Greg’s skin contract and to listen to him moan. Sharp, pointed jabs that breached the muscle and made Greg pant with need, whimpering, _“More,”_ under his breath. Mycroft obliged, wriggling in deep and closing his lips around the soft, supple skin, sucking at him until he was grinding up into his mouth mindlessly.

Greg opened up to him beautifully, relaxing more and more with each wet lick, with each soft murmur of _“beautiful, oh you delicious man”_. Mycroft slid his middle finger in with the next pass of his tongue, making sure that it was nice and slick and moving smoothly. He drew back in surprise as Greg bucked up into it, swiftly becoming mesmerised by the muscle clenching and releasing around him. Dribbling out some more spit, he added another finger and grinned as Greg let out a curse.

“Fuck!” Mycroft lifted his head and smirked as Greg looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide and frantic. “Not enough - m’bout to lose my fucking mind here - Mycroft, Mycroft please.” He bit his lip as Mycroft withdrew, slowly pushing himself back up on his knees and reaching for the lube. His voice warbled out in a low whimper as his whole body trembled, keeping his dark eyes focused on Mycroft’s face. “Please, oh God - _please_.”

Mycroft had been able to ignore his arousal while focusing his attention on thoroughly eating out Greg’s arse, but of course that pleading note shot straight to his cock, making it throb sharply. He grunted softly as he took hold, breathing in deep as he spread the thick lube all around. Greg was still looking at him as he lined himself up, but his head dropped as soon as Mycroft started to push, bearing down around him as he groaned from low in his belly.

Moving slowly, steadily, Mycroft did not stop until he had fully bottomed out, the cradle of his hips pressed flush against the curve of Greg’s arse. Greg stopped trembling as he took in a deep breath, and Mycroft bit back his own garbled noise as the exhale allowed him to settle even further into his body. “Oh, thank Christ.”

Mycroft snorted, holding fast as they both devolved into heady, high-pitched giggles. He spread his legs just a bit and laid his body down, settling over Greg like a living blanket of flesh and bone. Mycroft nuzzled against Greg’s cheek, breathing with him as he let out a low hum of contentment. He slid his hands up, wrapping his fingers around Greg’s wrists briefly before tangling their hands together.

Greg sighed deeply, and Mycroft turned his head to press his lips to his skin. “Jesus, you feel amazing.”

Mycroft’s lips turned up as he rolled his hips, clamping down hard on his own sense of restraint. “And you feel absolutely divine.”

“You know what would feel even better?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he took Greg’s earlobe in between his teeth, giving it a vicious tug. “I imagine you’re going to say something along the lines of ‘if you were actually fucking me’?”

Greg’s sharp bark of laughter nearly dislodged Mycroft completely. “Hell, you really are a genius, aren’t ya?”

Mycroft growled faintly as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees, rocking his whole body back and forth, driving into Greg with short if somewhat languid thrusts. Greg hissed as he threw his head back, hoisting up his hips and pushing back against him. He could hear Greg’s small huffs of frustration and knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be demanding a change in position, but Mycroft found the idea of vaguely caging him in to be very satisfying.  

Greg took in a sharp breath to complain, but Mycroft cut him off before he had the chance, pushing himself up and taking hold of Greg’s hips, immediately thrusting in hard and deep. Greg responded with a beautifully deep moan, stretching out his arms to brace himself against the headboard, sliding up on his knees to spread his legs even wider. Mycroft took him up on his unspoken offer, that indescribable pressure already building within as he fucked into him without restraint.

Greg hissed out his approval, his breath coming in sharp, wavering gasps between low exclamations, mostly along the lines of, “Fuck _yes,_  fucking _fuck_ me fucking harder _fuck_!”

Mycroft growled low as he increased his pace, barely holding on to his sanity as his thoughts swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of his hips. _‘Just what in the raging hell do you_ think _I’m doing?’_

Greg’s head dropped, and he continued to cry out with each sharp jolt, his words taking on an entirely different tone. “More, just give me more, make me take it, make me feel it, make me think I’m worth something, even if it’s just for a fuck, oh God more gimme more...”

A swift jolt of despair rocked down Mycroft’s spine, but he was too far gone, and with another hard thrust, he buried himself deeply into Greg’s heat and groaned out his release, his vision going spotty as he fought to regain his breath. Greg made a noise, a sort of strangled sob that sounded a little too like the real thing for Mycroft’s comfort.

Chest still heaving, he wrapped his arms around Greg’s body and fell back on his heels, dragging him along with him. Greg sat limply in his lap, subconsciously squeezing down on Mycroft’s spent cock. His own was rock-hard, a steady stream of pre-come making it glisten rosily, but Greg made no move to take himself in hand.

Mycroft held him tightly for a moment, kissing his shoulder and cautiously sweeping one hand down the front of his body. He froze as Greg made a noise, something that wasn’t exactly disapproving, but not entirely eager, either. Mycroft gently laid his hand on Greg’s thigh, close to the junction of his groin.

“Do you not want to get off?” Greg snorted out a wet rumble of laughter, shrugging his shoulders weakly. “Do you not want _me_ to get you off?”

“You don’t have to.”

Mycroft blinked. “Why on earth wouldn’t I want to?” He trailed his fingers down and over, running them up Greg’s cock and back down again. He nuzzled into the back of Greg’s neck, licking up his sweat. “Made me feel so good - I want to return the favour.”

Greg twisted in Mycroft’s hold, his eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. “S’that all it is?”

Mycroft shook his head as he slowly wrapped his fingers around Greg’s cock, stroking him firmly. Greg twitched as his head dropped back against Mycroft’s shoulder. “Greg, listen to me. You are worth everything to me. This - shift, or whatever it is that we are now, has needed to happen for a very long time. I’m not doing you a favour because I feel sorry for you. I’m looking after you because I _care_. Whatever you need, I will be here to give it to you.”

Greg sighed, his hips moving in short jerks as he was stroked, relaxing into it. “Mycroft...”

“You can cry on my shoulder if you need to, and fall asleep in my arms. You can demand that I fuck you into oblivion and beg me to make you come as often as you need. I can make you forget, even if it’s just for one night, and I can help you remember again. I can be anything you need me to be because you are _everything_  to me and I’m so sorry that it took me this long to realise it...” Mycroft bit back on the tightness in his own chest as Greg looked at him, his eyes dark and fathomless. “Greg, do you trust me?”

“Without question.” There was no hesitation in Greg’s voice, and Mycroft nodded his head a bit blindly, his vision blurred for some odd reason that he absolutely refused to entertain.

“Then show me. I’ve got you, I won’t let you down. Let go of whatever demons are lurking in your head and let yourself feel good for one damn second of your life.” Greg chuckled low, sniffling hard as he started to push into Mycroft’s fist a bit faster. “That’s it. Come for me, my love.”

Greg choked on his cry, his eyes wide and startled as his cock jerked in Mycroft’s grip. His back bowed as he came, his mouth dropping open but only a thin squeak emerging. Mycroft hummed in pleasure as he loosened the ring of his fingers, holding Greg through each strong pulse. His eyebrows went up and his lips pursed in astonishment as Greg’s cock continued to pump out stream after stream.

Mycroft held up his hand as it finally stopped, turning it this way and that and marvelling at not just the volume, but the viscosity as well. Greg broke down into heady giggles, reaching out for the towel and carefully wiping Mycroft’s fingers clean. He shrugged idly as he ran the towel down his belly, his cheeks blazing red. “Been awhile.”

Mycroft leant forward to press a kiss to Greg’s forehead as he was tended to. “Well, then. I shan’t anticipate such a bounty when I go down on you tomorrow.”

“Christ.” Greg shuddered and tossed aside the towel, pulling Mycroft down on top of him in the bed. “You’re going to be insatiable, aren’t you?”

Mycroft ducked his head and delivered a swift bite to Greg’s neck. “Of course. Not only has it been a long time for me as well, but have you ever actually seen yourself? You’re delectable.” He ran a finger down Greg’s chest. “I mean... Right now you’re an unholy mess, but I’m hoping that a good night’s rest will go a long way in restoring your manly beauty.”

Greg rolled his eyes, his lips turning up as he tried to stifle a yawn. He winced as his stomach rumbled between them, chuckling low as Mycroft twitched in surprise at the sensation. Mycroft rolled to his side, and there were a few moments of grunting and straining as blankets were pulled down and back up again, as well as limbs being rearranged in a pleasing fashion for all involved.

Their foreheads nearly collided as they sought out each other’s lips for a goodnight kiss, and Greg muffled a curse into Mycroft’s chest as his belly spoke up once again. Mycroft huffed out a quiet laugh as he reached up to run his fingers through Greg’s hair, stroking him softly until he settled, his head growing heavy on his shoulder.

There was another angry rumble, and Mycroft clucked his tongue. “All right, so the best picks of the day-old pastries and _then_ fellatio.”

Greg blew a raspberry over Mycroft’s nipple in retaliation for making him laugh so hard that he nearly wet himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Not brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. Come follow me, and you'll get pretty boys and soft kitties on your dash!


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